


Lived, laughed, loved

by Hectatess



Series: Late-night Discord plot-bunnies [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Case Fic, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: This case is weird, even for the Winchesters. A ghost, haunting her family, but not out of vengeance. It wants something very specific.Plus the boys’ incognito act isn’t really working. What is going on?Or: how fangirls (or -women) aren’t all like Becky Rosen.





	Lived, laughed, loved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MalMuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/gifts), [pingnova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pingnova/gifts).



> I should start a series with these. ‘Discord plotbunnies’ or something.  
> Yes, it happened again! Thrice in a month, my talk with the Discord peeps turned into a fic!  
> This time the culprits are MalMuses and pingnova. I hope you’re happy!  
> (JK. Love you!)

 

The sponge slid smoothly along the black surface, leaving a trail of soft, fragrant suds in its wake. To Dean, this was the ultimate relaxation. Fuck Spa-days or expensive as Hell massages, this here, this was it.  
“Hello, Dean.”  
The sponge slipped from his grasp, landing on the gritty, concrete floor.  
“Damnit Cas!” Dean griped, picking it up. “We really need to put a bell on you. Even now you can’t pop up at any given time, you still startle the bejeezus outta me.”  
The angel inclined his head, but he did seem to smirk.  
“My apologies,” he intoned. “I will endeavour to give you a warning next time.”  
Throwing the sponge in the bucket of hot, sudsy water, Dean sighed. “Yeah, thanks, bud. What’s up?”  
Cas glanced up to the high ceiling beams. “The ceiling.”  
It got him a bitchface, but being used to them by now, he just licked his lips and continued. “Sam sent me. He’s found something.”  
That stopped Dean in his tracks. “Why the Hell would he do that? He knew I was washing Baby. He could’ve....” His voice bled out as a thought occurred to him. “Damnit. It’s the shorts. He knew I’d be wearing them... he doesn’t want to see... mother....” He reeled in his vocabulary when he remembered the angel.  
Cas was eyeing him up and down, one eyebrow raised. “I do not see any problem with them. They are nice shorts. Maybe a bit tight. You have cut the legs properly, but the pocket-lining is visible now. Still, over all they are aestethically pleasing on you.”  
Fighting down a blush, Dean quickly rinsed off the car. “Yeah, thanks, Cas. But I will have to chamois the car down before I can go see what Sam has. I will not let her air dry. It’ll ruin the finish.”  
Nodding, Cas picked up a second chamois. “I will assist you. I have seen you do this before. I can help.”  
Dean flashed him a grateful grin, and they started rubbing the car until she gleamed.

“So get this...” Sam turned his tablet around to show the news clipping. “It’s a real haunting, I’m fairly sure.”  
Dean pulled up the device from the world-map table and read aloud. “Family claims dead mom is haunting them.” He glanced up. “Gee, Sam. That really took it out of your college brain, huh?”  
Throwing a bitchface, Sam urged with his hands he should read on.  
With a smirk, Dean continued. “Son Ryker claims: ‘Ever since the funeral, mom has been around. I can sense her.’ So? That’s a claim dozens of grieving kids have...” More hand waving to keep going.  
“The family buried the mother last Friday, yadayada... oh! Hang on... ‘mom keeps turning all our pictures upside down, and our nicknacks back-to-front.’ daughter Melody states. ‘It will get freezing cold. Your breath will fog up, so cold, and then the lights will flicker, and next thing you know, their wedding picture is upside down, or the little ducky on the mantle shows its butt. It isn’t scary, just annoying. Dad doesn’t want to go to sleep anymore, because he’s afraid he’ll find the sofa overturned or something.’ Wow... accurate description of the temperature drop and electric fritzing,” Dean noted. Humming in agreement, Cas took the tablet from him to quickly read the piece himself. “Agreed,” he conceded. “but it is an odd haunting. It seems the spirit has no ill intent, just a penchant to turn things around.”  
Sam rubbed his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing, Cas. In our experience, it will only be a matter of time, before the ghost turns vengeful, and start hurting people. We’d better go check it out.”  
Slapping his hands on Greenland, Dean stood, his booty shorts clearly visible. “Yeah. Good idea. Baby’s cleaned and ready to roll, so...”  
Sam rolled his eyes and turned away from him. “Get changed first. It’s a 19 hour drive to North Carolina.”  
Grinning, Dean winked at Cas before he sauntered off, shorts accentuating his bowlegs beautifully.

Before long, they were on the road.  
“North Carolina, you said, Sam?” Dean asked, turning Baby onto the I-36.  
“Yeah.. Bear Poplar, North Carolina. But... why didn’t you take the 24?” he answered, glancing at the road.  
“They’re working on that, near Cawker City, and around Nashville,” Dean replied. “That’s gonna give us a whole lot of grief. Bear Poplar... what kinda name is that?”  
Sitting up straight, Cas leaned over towards the front seat. “You know, there are several stories of the name’s origin,” he stated matter-of-factly. “First of all, it is not a town, but a community. It was first known as Forty-Four because it was located 44 miles from Charlotte and Winston-Salem. It got its name Bear Poplar around 1773 when one Thomas Cowan was walking with his wife, and about a mile away from his farm, they noticed a bear up a big poplar tree. But according to another source, the community was first known as Rocky Mount, the name of a plantation owned by a man named Henry Kesler. It was renamed to Bear Poplar in 1878 when the first post office was established.”  
Dean patted the hand that rested on his shoulder. “Wow. Thanks Cas. That was... enlightening. Who needs Wikipedia when they have you, huh?”  
The angel smiled and sat back. “Thank you, Dean. I’m glad to be of help.”  
Schooling his face, Sam glanced at Dean with a twinkle in his ever-changing eyes.  
“It’s good to know a bit about a town, Cas. That’s for sure.” he added with a bit of strain in his voice. Dean flashed him a grin before turning on the radio.

After a nineteen hour drive and a stop-over just outside of Dale, Indiana, Sam was obviously happy to stretch his legs. He groaned and stretched all his long limbs out.  
“Geez, Sammy. One might think you’re glad to be standing,” Dean teased, stretching himself too. Ignoring the bitchface his little brother sent him, Dean opened the door for Cas, who climbed out and blinked in the late afternoon sun. They had decided to stay in a motel in Statesville, because the tiny community of Bear Poplar had no motel of its own to boast about.  
Sam checked them in, and they dropped their stuff on the King and Queen beds. “Can you believe these folks?” Dean groused. “Good thing you don’t sleep, buddy. Otherwise we’d have to share.”  
Looking wistfully at the beds, Cas just hummed. Dean bit his lip. That had sounded disappointed. “Not that I’d mind, you know... but... it’s just how easily these people assume you and I... or Sam and I... are like... together. Just... wrong. They should at least ask.”  
Slowly, Cas nodded. “Agreed. It is presumptuous of them to just draw a conclusion without all the facts.”  
Happy to have that cleared, Dean kicked his duffle under the bed. “Like I said, not that I’d mind sharing. Feel free to hop in... I mean... if you feel the need to rest. It’s a big old bed, and I don’t take up much space... I’m gonna shut up now,” he ended, seeing the impish look in Sam’s eyes.  
Sam, being the obnoxious little brother that he was, grinned widely and, whilst putting away his stuff, innocently asked Dean how that foot tasted.  
Dean chucked a pillow at his brother. Sam dodged it and ducked into the bathroom. “Dibs on the shower!” he called.  
“Go ahead, I’m taking a long one tomorrow!” Dean snarked back. “I’m gonna be the freshest of us all, when we interview the family.”  
“Eh...” Cas piped up. “Technically, that would still be me, since my Grace continuously cleans my vess.. body.”  
Dropping his coat on a chair, Dean growled. “Oh shut up!”  
He toed off his shoes and flopped on the bed, back to the room and grumbling under his breath.

The next morning they pretended to be from an online paranormal magazine, to question the family.  
“Yeah, mom was quite the character,” Ryker, the lady’s son, said. “She wrote all kinds of silly stories and hung out with these other authors on an online server called Discord. Heh. That’s where she met Ping.” He indicated a woman, not much older than he, who was dabbing her eyes and staring at a picture of the deceased. “Ping?” Dean asked incredulously. The woman chuckled low. “Yeah... my screen name. Everybody there calls me Ping, so I learned to react to it. Mal and I were about as close as you can get online.”  
“Mal...” Dean echoed, a bit out of his depth. “Yes,” Cas came to his rescue. “If you remember, the deceased’s name was Malory. I take it she shortened it.” Ping nodded. “Yeah... can you imagine my confusion when I got the card? Huh. Wonder how Pie’s gonna react...” she mused.  
“Pie?” Thoroughly confused by now, Dean looked around for said pastry.  
“Pie Darling... another screen name. She couldn’t come over for the burial. Stuck in her home country Panama for a vacation.”  
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m giving up. You two try and make sense of these people. I’m going to talk to another, more normal family member.”  
Sam chuckled and pointed him towards the kitchen. “I think daughter Melody is in there. You can try her.”

Dean found the daughter pondering over a handwritten recipe. “Eh, Melody?” he wavered. The girl jumped a bit, then sent him a watery smile. “Yes, that’s me. How may I help you?”  
Dean quickly glanced at the recipe. You never knew if it wasn’t a potion or something.  
“Speculaas? What the Hell is that?” he blurted out. A chuckle had him turn around to find Cas in the archway to the living room. “Dutch spiced cookies, Dean. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he clarified. “Although, I am surprised to find a handwritten recipe of them in the US.”  
Cookies. Ok. Dean sent his pal a smile. “Thanks Cas.”  
Melody gasped. “You’re joking,” she said, dark eyes wide. “No frikken way.”  
Doing his signature head-tilt, Cas blinked at the girl. “Joking? I assure you we are not joking at all. What would we be joking about?”  
Rubbing her mouth, Melody huffed out a shuddering breath. “Dean and Cas. Your names are Dean, and Cas.”  
Trepidation filled Dean. Not those books again! He shot a panicked glance at Cas, who seemed to understand. The silent ‘I got this’ look he sent, had Dean bite his tongue, before he blurted out something about those damned Carver Edlund books.  
“Ja,” Cas said. “I know my name isn’t very common here, but in Holland it is.”  
Dean beamed at him. Smart guy that angel!

Melody squinted at them. “Uhuh... hang on,” she said, raising one finger. A quick glance at the clock had her frown. “I hope she’s up...” she muttered, fidgeting with a laptop.  
Cas shot Dean a questioning look, but he couldn’t tell him what the girl was going on about either.  
The laptop emitted a phone call sound and the grainy picture of a spectacled woman appeared.  
“Melody! Oh hon! Hi! Are you ok? How are you holding up, sweeting?” her voice came, a bit crackly, from the laptop speakers.  
“Evy...Hi. We’re... handling it. Tough, but we got it. I’m happy you’re up though. I have a question for you.”  
Behind her, Dean was helplessly trying to figure out what was going on. Cas didn’t seem to fare any better.  
“Shoot, sweeting. Anything for Mal’s kids, you know that.”  
Cas got real close to Dean, and whispered: “That Evy isn’t American. She has an accent I can’t quite place yet.”  
Melody shook her head, but soldiered on. “You know what mom wrote about, right?” The other woman nodded silently. “Well, we kinda think she’s haunting us. Don’t know why, but ok. Now these three guys show up. Tall, handsome... hang on...” She suddenly stepped aside, getting Dean and Cas both in plain view. Evy gasped. “No...”  
“Yeah, I know,” Melody supplied. “Get this... the dark haired one... his name is Cas. Claims it to be Dutch.”  
Evy nodded. “Ok, that’s true though. But I get it. Can I..?”  
Melody waved Cas over. “Talk to her, Dude. She has questions.”

Baffled, Dean watched the angel blink at the screen and waver an uncertain “Hello.” at it.  
The woman huffed out a breath. “Wow. Je stem.... diep en gruizig. Dat klopt ook al.”  
Cas suddenly smiled and winked at Dean. He had this.  
“Hoe bedoel je? Het is gewoon mijn stem,” Cas replied innocently. Dean deadpanned because a proud smile was about to ruin it all. His angel had it covered.  
Evy smirked, a dimple popping up. “Uhuh... en de stropdas, de ogen. Doe me één plezier, engel, zoek uit waarom Mal spookt, en ga niet meteen voor de botten. Mal zou alleen om een _hele_ goeie reden niet met haar ‘oogster’ mee gaan. Ik bewaar jullie geheim. Doe de broers de groeten en geef dat stuk met die groene ogen nou eindelijk eens een zoen, man.”  
Gaping soundlessly at the screen, Cas blinked several times during her speech.  
“Ja... ok... Zoen?” he finally stammered. The lady on screen grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. “Tuurlijk. Gast, jullie zijn zo gek op elkaar, maar durven geen van twee de eerste stap te zetten. Als je de boeken leest, lieverd, lees je ook hoe hij zich voelt als jij in de buurt bent. Geloof me. Die profetieën zitten er niet naast, zoals je zelf weet.”  
Cas glanced over his shoulder at Dean, a soft expression on his face. “Het staat in de boeken?” he asked, something hopeful in his voice.  
Evy smiled and nodded. “Kristal helder. Waarom denk je dat er zoveel over jullie geschreven wordt door de fans? Het is overduidelijk. Pak ze, tijger! Ik regel het met Mal’s familie.”  
A broad smile appeared on Cas’ face. “Dank je, Evy. Het beste.”  
Evy smiled back. “Graag gedaan, Cas. Succes!”

Melody took Cas’ seat once he’d gotten up. “Well?” she demanded to know. Evy heaved a sigh and licked her lips. “Cas is indeed a Dutch name. An abbreviation of Casper. What with the whole cartoon ghost, I can see why he would shorten it. And the fact that there are three, tall handsome guys there, is just a coincidence.”  
Melody looked unconvinced, and Dean fidgeted behind her.  
“But they’re here to investigate the haunting, and that other guy is called Dean... I mean...” she stammered, but Evy shrugged. “Coïnkidinks, sweeting. Come on. Mom, and Ping, Pie and I were writing fanfic. About _fictional_ characters. No way all those things _really_ happened. Angels, demons, vampires? Naaahhh. But it was fun talking to that guy. Oh! Gotta go, hon! The kids have to be fed and kicked to school. Bye sweeting! Knuffel! Oh! Cas... zoen!” She waved at them and Cas grinned. “Zeker wel!” he answered.  
The screen went blank.  
“Ok. Fine,” Melody said. “I’m certainly not going to question this. I have a workshop to organise.” She nodded at them and left.

In an instant, Dean rounded on Cas. “Dude, what the Hell?” he demanded to know.  
Cas smiled warmly, his cerulean eyes soft. “The prophecies, Dean. The Winchester gospel. These ladies wrote...” Dean buried his face in his hands. “No... not more Fan-fiction... oh God!”  
“Indeed. But Evy has kindly covered for us. It seems Chuck wrote us pretty well. She recognised us from just seeing us, and hearing my voice, which she described as ‘deep and gravelly’. An accurate, if very poetic way to do so.”  
Running a hand through his hair, Dean groaned. “Dude, if I ever find a way to kick your dad’s butt, I frikken will, the very next time I see him.”  
Cas chuckled. “You won’t. You like Chuck,” he stated and pulled his own fingers through Dean’s hair.  
Looking up like a deer in headlights, Dean gulped, hoping his blush didn’t show. “Cas?” he wavered uncertainly.  
Cas just smiled more. “I think I should read more of my Father’s work,” he mused, and walked off to find Sam, leaving a flustered and confused Dean behind.

“Hey guys, get this...” Sam started, and Dean rolled his eyes, but listened anyway.  
“The things the ghost has turned around, the nicknacks? All of the kind with one of those tacky sayings on them.”  
Doing the confused head-tilt Dean refused to admit he found adorable, Cas squinted. “Sayings? Tacky sayings? What do you mean?”  
Picking up a ducky, like those rubber ones for the bathtub, only carved in wood, Sam pointed at the little wooden sign it held in its wings. “Be a rose in a field of clover.” Cas read.  
“Oh no,” Dean groaned. “Mal collected these horrible things?”  
A crisp voice behind them interrupted. “Actually, no.”  
They turned around, to find Mal’s husband, Joe, walking down the stairs. “Mal kept them around, because Melody made them. That’s what her workshops are about. Creating these signs. Mal hated some of them with a passion. Especially those about love.” He indicated one on the wall.  
“Love fiercely, live happy.” Cas cited with a frown. “Why would she hate that? It is a commendable...” He fell silent when his breath fogged up in front of him. The curtains fluttered wildly and the pallet-wooden sign rattled against the wall, then suddenly turned over, slamming the text against the plaster.  
Joe sighed. “I know, Mal, but you kept them so Melody would feel encouraged,” he said, turning the sign around.

This time the drop in temperature was more dramatic and the sign actually flew across the room.  
Dean picked it up. “I guess she really doesn’t like it,” he surmised, turning it over in his hands.  
A loud rustling noise turned their heads towards the coffee table.  
A catalogue fluttered its pages like someone was browsing it. One page got ripped out, shredded in front of them, and another got a big red circle traced on it with a marker.  
Just as sudden as the manifestation started, it ended. The room warmed up, the curtains hung down demurely and the bits of paper drifted to the floor.  
Joe picked up the catalogue. “Huh,” he huffed. “She tore her own coffin to bits and highlighted the one Melody was sure she wouldn’t want. I’m thinking Mels got it wrong. If only because of that line in the will...”  
Head swivelling around like a coon-dog on a scent, Sam spoke up. “What line in the will?”  
Joe stalked over to a dresser and pulled a folder out of a drawer.  
“Here,” he said, pointing to a sentence pretty early on in the document.  
“Just don’t put me in one of those quote coffins. Especially not the ‘lived, laughed, loved’ one. I’m looking at you, Melody!” Sam read aloud.  
Dean picked up the abandoned catalogue. A big, red circle was drawn around a black coffin with red lining. Very cliché, but he could see the attraction.  
“What was that coffin like? The one in the will?” he wanted to know.  
Joe grabbed a tablet and started browsing.

Sam took up the sigh Dean had put aside. “Dean, this is a really weird haunting. I think the ghost just wants a different coffin.”  
Dean chuckled, then took the tablet Joe offered him. One glance and he was ready to go assist the ghost in wrecking the house.  
“Well if I was buried in that, I’d come back and haunt the suckers who did it too,” he offered, showing Sam the picture on the screen.  
It was a white-washed coffin, like the pallet-wood signs, and on the inside of the lid, in scrolling letters, the text ‘Lived, Laughed, Loved’ was written in different fonts.  
Sam gagged, making Cas look over his shoulder at the thing too.  
“Oh. Oh my. No. That _is_ bad taste,” he exclaimed. “Was she buried in one of these?” he asked Joe, who nodded. “Melody thought she was kidding,” he explained.  
Cas shook his head. “Malory, I understand,” he told the empty air. “We shall amend this atrocity as soon as possible!”  
Joe pulled a hand through his hair. “But the costs, I mean: who would use a second hand coffin? I’m sure the undertaker isn’t willing do a swap, or refund it...”  
Sam pulled his thinking deeply face and Dean could almost see the gears turning.  
“Don’t worry, Joe. I think we can handle this.” He turned to his brother and their friend. “I got an idea, but we need to talk about it more. Coming?”  
Assuring Joe and Ryder they would put Mal’s soul to rest, they left.

“Are you sure this will work, Sam?” Dean asked, eyeing gates to the cemetery in Mooresville cautiously.  
They were at the grave site and Cas was about to lift the offending coffin from its place.  
The temperature, already low, but not chilling, dropped and a woman appeared at the headstone.  
“So, you guys are real, huh? Go figure. Gonna salt and burn me now?” she asked, her arms crossed and her head tilted.  
“Hello, Malory,” Cas smiled as he gently put the coffin down. “We shall not. You’re not vengeful yet, and you have done no harm. Sam thought swapping the coffins, and paying for the difference by credit-card, might appease you enough to move on. I will deep clean the used one with my ‘Angel Mojo’, as Dean calls it.”  
Mal smirked. “Smart guy, but paying isn’t necessary. That piece of shit cost two hundred more than the one I like.”  
Dean chuckled. “No price for taste, huh?”  
Mal eyed him critically, then Cas. “Nope. None at all. Hey, Dean,” she said, eyes twinkling. “If something good, no, _very_ good happens soon, just go with it.”  
Blinking, Dean stared at her. Mal laughed aloud, head thrown back. “You’ll see. Hey, Cas...”  
Cas carefully put her body in the red lined coffin and looked up.  
“I learned some things from Evy,” Mal offered, scooting onto her headstone. “Zoenen, zoenen, zoenen...” she started chanting, kicking her legs in time.  
Cas chuckled as he ducked his head. “Eerst werk, dan plezier,” he replied with a smile, causing Mal to whoop loudly. “Mind if I stick around until...” She didn’t end that sentence, but Cas nodded.  
He lowered the black coffin in the grave and Sam and Dean quickly filled it back up, while Cas cleansed the white-washed one of every dirt molecule.  
“Done,” Sam panted, leaning on his shovel.  
“Me too,” Cas said, walking closer. Dean popped his spine and smirked. “Job well done, guys... Eh, Mal?” He looked at the ghost on the headstone. She smiled benignly. “Yes, Dean? What’s wrong?”  
He motioned at the grave, then at her. “Job done. You’re resting in peace now, right? In a not horrible coffin.”  
Mal looked inordainly smug. “Uhuh. Just one more thing and I’ll be out of your hair, boys...”  
Narrowing his green eyes, Dean stared at her. “What would that be?” he dared ask.  
Suddenly, Cas grabbed his face with two hands and pressed his lips to Dean’s. Dean’s eyes grew impossibly wide, then closed as he melted into the kiss.  
“That! Well done, Castiel,” Mal cheered, and she disappeared in a white glow.  
Sam threw his head back and laughed. “Guess fangirls aren’t that bad after all.”  
His brother and Cas didn’t notice anything for a while.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dutch - English translations:
> 
> Wow. Je stem.... diep en gruizig. Dat klopt ook al. - Wow, your voice.... deep and gravelly. That fits too.
> 
> Hoe bedoel je? Het is gewoon mijn stem - What do you mean? It’s just my voice
> 
> Uhuh... en de stropdas, de ogen. - Uhuh... and the tie, the eyes.
> 
> Doe me één plezier, engel, zoek uit waarom Mal spookt, en ga niet meteen voor de botten. - Do me a favour, angel, find out why Mal is haunting and dont’ go straight for the bones.
> 
> Mal zou alleen om een _hele_ goeie reden niet met haar ‘oogster’ mee gaan. - Mal would only not go with her ‘reaper’ for a _very_ good reason.
> 
> Ik bewaar jullie geheim. - I’ll keep your secret.
> 
> Doe de broers de groeten en geef dat stuk met die groene ogen nou eindelijk eens een zoen, man. - Tell the brothers Hi from me, and finally give that stud with the green eyes a kiss, man.
> 
> Ja... ok... Zoen? - Yes... ok... Kiss?
> 
> Tuurlijk. Gast, jullie zijn zo gek op elkaar, maar durven geen van twee de eerste stap te zetten. - Of course. Dude, you two are so nuts about each-other, but neither dares to take that first step.
> 
> Als je de boeken leest, lieverd, lees je ook hoe hij zich voelt als jij in de buurt bent. Geloof me. Die profetieën zitten er niet naast, zoals je zelf weet. - If you read the books, honey, you will also read how he feels when you’re around. Believe me. Those prophecies ar not wrong, as you well know.
> 
> Het staat in de boeken? - It’s in the books?
> 
> Kristal helder. Waarom denk je dat er zoveel over jullie geschreven wordt door de fans? Het is overduidelijk. Pak ze, tijger! Ik regel het met Mal’s familie. - Crystal clear. Why’d you think the fans write so much about you? It is so obvious. Go get ‘em, tiger! I’ll handle Mal’s family.
> 
> Dank je, Evy. Het beste. - Thank you, Evy. Take care.
> 
> Graag gedaan, Cas. Succes! - You’re welcome, Cas. Good luck!
> 
> Knuffel -hug
> 
> Zoen - kiss
> 
> Zeker wel! - Certainly!
> 
> Zoenen, zoenen, zoenen... - kissing, kissing, kissing....
> 
> Eerst werk, dan plezier! - Job before pleasure!


End file.
